Stay
by Aleriaxx
Summary: Peeta and Katniss were reaped. They fought in the Hunger Games, started the fire of rebellion and fought in the Quarter Quell. But throughout their adventure, someone was always in the shadows, fighting for them in her own way. The story of Piper Mellark, Peeta's little sister. Rated T to be safe. No slash, minimal romance.
1. Chapter 1-My Nightmare Begins

**Hey-no one seemed to like my Harry potter story. Basically, I'm starting lots of stories, then continuing the one that gets the most reviews in a short amount of time. Don't think automatically that this sucks! it may not seem good at first, but it gets better! By the way, I did not get the idea of the name 'Piper' from 'The Heroes of Olympus'. I swear. So anyway, please review-five reviews mean a new chapter, and the more reviews, the faster I write. I hope you like it, and I hope you review!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games, (Though I'd love to)though I own the names of Leo, Kent and Piper. **

The day of the Reaping is one day I will never forget.

It was very sunny, I remember. The sun made everyone squint. It was a good excuse to scowl at the stage-we could say that we were squinting.

I also remember Effie Trinket, her high, nasal voice as she called out my brother's name.

Peeta Mellark.

The name that started my nightmare.

I stare at myself in the dusty mirror, taking in the dress. It was an old one, faded white with blue flower print and small white buttons running down my chest. It used to belong to my mother but was now too ragged for her. So, being the only girl in the family, it went to me.

I wrinkle my nose, disgusted. It looks horrible, contrasting sharply with my scraggly, dark blonde hair. I feel like an old, grouchy old lady. Like my mother.

"Piper? Are you done?" Leo's voice calls from the door.

"Yeah," I reply simply.

"Come on down. We're leaving."

Take deep breaths, I tell myself as I squint through the sunlight, up at the stage. Up at where Effie Trinket stands. I glance around desperately at where the adults stand, and find my parents and Kent. I feel a pang of jealously-my twenty year old brother has no worries. Kent flashes me a worried look. My father tries to smile. My mother ignores me. I look to the boys' section, and my eyes meet Leo's. He sticks out his tongue. I turn to Peeta. He mouths, _Don't worry._

Effie is reaching into the bowl.

She is smiling at the crowd.

Her powdered hand is flicking around the bowl like a spider.

She fingers a slip of paper.

What if it says 'Piper Mellark'?

She releases it and flicks around more.

The suspense is killing me.

She finally picks a slip.

Raises it up.

Opens it.

Her eyes read it.

She smiles.

Takes a breath.

Dramatically,

"Primrose Everdeen!"

It's not me! Joyous relief surges through me and I exhale, along with almost every single other girl. Then I see the girl, my age, walking up to the stage looking petrified. Prim. I've talked to her once or twice; even sat with her for lunch sometimes, back when I went to school. I remember that her father died in the mining explosion a while ago. And mostly, I remember that she's the sister of Katniss Everdeen.

The girl Peeta loves.

"Prim!" Katniss's voice rings through the crowd. "Prim!" I watch, spellbound, as she runs in front of Prim. "I volunteer as a tribute!" she says loudly.

Horrified, I glance at Peeta. His face is pasty pale. My father looks the same way-he knew her mother, I remember. I consider volunteering, saving both Katniss and Prim the trouble, but I guiltily ignore my conscience. No way am I throwing my life away, even for the girl my brother loves. Besides, it's too late. Katniss is on the stage, with Effie smiling and saying something that I don't listen to.

Now, she puts her hand in the boys' bowl.

Flicks her hand around, much more hurriedly. The volunteering must have spent extra time.

She grabs the first slip her hand finds and raises it, then unfolds it.

_Please, not Peeta. Not Peeta. Or Leo. But please, not Peeta...please. _

And what do you know, because it's-

"Peeta Mellark!"

No.

Oh hell, no.

So many other names.

He didn't even do _tesserae. _

Did I even hear right?

Peeta's face is even paler than when Katniss was called. He slowly looks around, at Leo, who's decidedly avoiding his gaze. He doesn't look at me. Then he starts to the stage.

"No!" I scream. "Wait, no!" I begin to run to him, but he's going to the stage even faster, eager to avoid me. Why am I doing this, anyway? I can't volunteer. "Wait!" The Peacekeepers hold me back. One twists my arm rather roughly, and I grunt in pain. "Peeta!" I scream. "Stop-wait-no-"

"Miss, you can't volunteer." One Peacekeeper says, and I bite my lip, trying to keep from screaming curses at them. Then I wrench out of their grip and run to Peeta. I hug him. But he just stands there.

"Piper," he says quietly. "Not now. Not here. Shh. Go." I don't have to be told, because the next minute, the Peacekeepers drag me away and practically toss me back into the girls' section like a bag of flour. I stumble.

"Any volunteers?" Effie calls shrilly, and I look up, eager. Will Leo volunteer? But the square is silent. I want to scream.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to keep the burning tears from coming, because I don't want my mother or brothers to see.

My father doesn't come to see Peeta, which baffles me-he liked Peeta a lot. He just disappeared. So Leo, Kent, my mother and I go to see Peeta without him.

When the Peacekeepers open the door, the first thing I see is Peeta, sitting in an elegantly furnished room on a velvet sofa, looking stunned and miserable. Seeing me, he tries to smile but fails. I go to sit next to him, while my brothers follow. My mother just stands there, glowering down at him.

"Why?" I whisper. My vision is going blurry again. Peeta hugs me, holding me tightly, like he did when I was small. He always cared about me more than the others did.

I can't think of anything to say, so we just sit there, rocking, until there's a rapping on the door and a Peacekeeper calls that we have three minutes left; we should get it wrapped up. Then, Peeta lets go of me to look at me in the eye.

"You're going to be okay," he says, "without me." It seems to be more of a question than a statement, so I nod. "You will not make mother angry," he continues. "and you will not lose your temper and blow up any Peacekeepers." I can't help but smile at the last part, but my smile is wobbly and soon I have to blink tears out of my eyes, again. "And no matter what you see me doing on TV," Peeta says, "You won't get angry, or cry." I nod.

"How are you going to do this? It's _her. _How are you going to kill _her?_" Peeta sighs.

"I don't know, Pip." Panic fills me as I consider that he might be planning to die for her.

"You won't die, right? You have to come back. I'll be mad if you don't come back. If you get killed, I-I-I-" I blubber, tears forming in my eyes again. I feel foolish. "-I-I-I'll kill you _again. _If you don't come back." Peeta smiles. Mother clears her throat.

"Oh, you'll do fine." she says a bit carelessly, patting Peeta on the head. He flinches-I do too. She doesn't notice, but continues to talk.

"Oh, District Twelve will have a victor, for once..." then, in a lower voice- "She's a fighter, that one." Both Peeta and I flinch-again. She. Mother meant Katniss.

"How could you say that to him?!" I ask in a furious hiss. "What kind of mother-"

The Peacekeepers come in.

"Time's up," They say. Kent and Leo quickly clap Peeta on the back, and murmur a few words. Peeta doesn't seem to listen-our mother's comment fazed him. Before Peeta can even say goodbye, the Peacekeepers drag us out. I don't resist.

I'm too busy crying.

The first thing I do when I get home is turn on the TV. Kent plops down lifelessly at the kitchen table along with Leo.

"He won't be on TV yet," he says hollowly. "He's still on the train, probably." But I ignore him. _He _didn't care about Peeta.

The rickety old TV flashes on, and blurry images of the reapings appear. I watch closely. Though it isn't District Twelve, I want to watch them. I want to be a part of Peeta's Games, to study his opponents and comfort myself with the feeling of being able to help him with the information. It's silly-he won't even know that I know. But I want to, anyway.

I'm lucky-they just started, and the District One boy-a dark haired, burly guy-is up. There already is a beautiful, haughty looking blonde up at the stage-a volunteer, no doubt. They both look skilled. Already, my brother's luck seems low.

District Two-Another haughty volunteer, who's name I couldn't hear, and a big, smug looking blonde boy who looked extremely fit, named Cato-surprisingly, no one volunteers. Obviously, he's too big to challenge. I'm beginning to despair.

District Three makes me sigh in relief-both scrawny, both pale. A girl named Esme and a boy named Renne.

District Four wipes my relief away. Two dark-skinned, tall and slender tributes, a girl named Abalone and a boy named Shell-wait, no, a boy named Cisco volunteers. Equally burly.

District Five is slightly better, with an average looking boy and a small, skinny redheaded girl with sly eyes that I don't trust. I don't catch either of their names.

I can't help but zone out for districts six, and dreading what I might see. I look back at Eight, because I'm made hopeful by the two scrawny, pale kids, just like Three. Both are extremely urban districts-probably without fresh air or nature. They'd die in milliseconds.

I'm feeling extremely happy for Peeta when I suddenly feel guilty. Here I am, smiling over two innocent tributes' death.

District Nine is fine-two average tributes, a boy named Wicket and a girl named Poppy, who's volunteered for by a girl who looks like her older sister, named Rowen. Like the tree, I remember, watching the skinny girl go bravely to the stage while Poppy cries. A rowen tree. I make a mental note to watch her in the games.

District Ten has a broad-shouldered boy named Ash and a long and lanky girl, named Fawn.

The boy tribute for District Eleven makes me blink-a huge, dark-skinned boy named Thresh, larger even than any of the other tributes before. And a small girl who's name I didn't catch, who I decide immediately is not a threat. Something about her reminds me of someone, but I push the thought away.

And finally, District Twelve. I watch carefully as Prim is called. Seeing her slight form, I remember that the District Ten girl tribute reminded me of her. Then Katniss comes up, volunteering. Next is my brother. Him being called; me running up and screaming his name. I stare, amazed at how wild I look in my ragged dress and wild blonde hair. The Capitol News reporter whistles and says something about the scene being touching, which makes me grit my teeth. They end with a cheerful 'that's it for today!' and 'May the odds be ever in your favor!' before the TV goes black.

"Penny?" Leo calls. "We have to eat." I ignore him, and continue staring at the turned-off TV.

My nightmare had officially begun.

The next day, I wake up at six in the morning, staring up at the ceiling and wondering why I felt so empty. Then the reaping came back to me. Prim. Katniss. Peeta. My chest aches as I continue looking at the ceiling with it's web of cracks. Cracked.

Like my heart.

"Piper!" My mother screeches, and I flinch. I walk downstairs, to where my mom was bustling around, putting on her apron. "What do you think you're doing, you little fool?! Put on your apron, and get to work!"

"But I want to see Peeta," I protest. Surely not even my witch of a mother wouldn't open the bakery today?

"What good would seeing him on TV do him?!" she screams at me. "There's nothing we can do!" She pauses, her eyes suddenly glassy. "There's nothing I can do," she repeats softly before bustling away.

Our home is basically on top of the bakery. The bakery's the first floor, and our rooms all smashed together into one crowded second floor. The one TV is on the second floor, and I have to work on the first floor from six to twelve. Then I get a loaf of stale bread for lunch, and keep working to seven, when we have dinner. Then I keep on working until ten, when I'm allowed to finally go to sleep.

I quit school a while ago-not because I wanted to, but because my mother favored my brothers over me. She wanted them to get an education, but also wanted someone around the house to keep charge of the bakery, 24/7. So she had me quit, as soon as it was legal to do so-age twelve.

Peeta always brought me his schoolbooks and taught me at night, or during meals, or whenever there wasn't a customer and all the bread was baked. He worked too, of course, as did all of my brothers, just not as much as me. I always loved it when it was his shift-he'd talk to me and laugh with me and make the whole job a lot less boring. We sometimes took little scraps of cookie dough left over from cookie cutters and molded them into funny shapes, then sneaked them into the oven with the other cookies. Later, as we sold the cookies, we'd take the scraps and eat them, hidden behind the counter where our mother couldn't see us.

Now, we could never do that again.

We would never make our mother's face out of cookie dough and trace on devil horns, mustaches and glasses.

We would never sneak salt into our mother's coffee and watch her shriek at Leo for hours, holding back laughter.

We would never chase each other when one put whipped cream on the head of the other.

We would never snicker about customers behind their backs.

As I tied my apron, I watched my tears make little wet dark spots on the front.

"Hello, how can I help you?" I called as the rusty old bell at the door clanged. My fake smile was on, and my tears had long since dried.

Carefully taking his order, I opened the glass shelf and groped around for the raisin bread. Wrapping it in wax paper, I handed it to the man with another sugary smile that made me sick to even imagine what it must look like on my face.

"Thank you," he said, his smile making his cheeks wrinkle as he places the coins in my hand. "I wish your family luck-I hope your brother will die honorably." My smile flickers, but only a moment.

"Thank you, sir! Have a nice day." I manage to keep my smile on until the bell jingles again to signal his leaving-then I plop down into a chair and scowl into nothingness. An honorable death. Obviously, he has no doubt that Peeta would die. I'm surprisingly not mad at the old man. After all, he was only wishing me the best luck he thought possible.

The bell rings again, and I jerk up, the smile once more imprinted on my face.

The hours tick away; smiling, baking, smiling, wrapping, smiling, icing, smiling, handing, smiling...and later Leo silently joins me...smiling, baking, smiling, giving, smiling, frosting, smiling...my mother calls us up for lunch and stomps down for her turn.

I practically inhale the bread, which is so stale it sticks to my throat and I have to gag a few times to get it down. Then I run to the TV and turn it on, my cheeks still aching from all that smiling.

_-nd now here comes District Eight! _Good, I might have time to get to Twelve. I squint at the flickering screen, where the two scrawny tributes are being lead to the building through the crowds of Capitol citizens. I gawk at them, in their brightly colored wigs, strange makeup, outrageous costumes and strange skin patterns and smooth, powdered hands and faces. My gaze goes from a tiger-striped woman to a man with purple eyes to a young child with frizzly, platinum hair in the arms of a woman who had scaled skin and snake-eyes. The screen flickers-now it's the District Nine tributes, surrounded by equally outrageous people. _And this is the tributes of District Nine! _I watch Rowan, who's struggling to look brave even though her eyes are swollen-

"What are you doing?" My mother screams at me, and I jump. Her apron's rumpled, and she holds a rolling pin in her flour-covered hands.

"I'm done eating, so I thought-"

"If you're done eating, you should have come down to work!" she shrieks. "What are you doing, lounging around like the lazy fool that you are?!"

"I was _watching Peeta!" _I yell back at her. She stares at me, then-

_Crack!_

My head snaps back and I stagger backwards, clutching my cheekbone where the rolling pin hit it. She's hit me before, but not with something so heavy-

I can feel tears springing in my eyes as blurry spots appear in my vision. I blink up at my mother, who looks as stunned as I feel.

The last thing I see is her flour-covered hands, powdered white like Effie Trinket's, like all the other Capitol people.

"Piper?" Kent's worried voice calls. My head hurts. My cheek hurts.

"Ugh."

"Piper?" I blink, staring up at Kent.

"How long was I out?" I mutter.

"Er...a few minutes. Mother said to have you down here and ready to work the moment you woke." I sit up and look around-I'm behind the counter of the bakery. Slowly, I turn to look at myself in the reflective glass of the counter. My entire cheek's a blossoming masterpiece of swirling colors-dark blue, purple, black. I touch it and gasp as pain shoots through the whole right side of my face.

"Ow."

"Ow's right. You cracked your cheekbone, sis." I grunt and heave myself up.

"What are you doing?"

"Working," I reply. I glance at the counter-we're out of sugar cookies. I get the flour, and a large bowl.

"Are you serious?" Kent asks, but I don't answer because a customer came in.

"Prim?!" I say in surprise. She looks awful-swollen red eyes, and pale. I quickly bustle out from behind the counter, and escort her to the back where I give her a chair. Kent has vanished-gone to pull the loaves out of the ovens. "Are you okay?" I ask quietly. She swallows.

"Yeah."

"You stay here a while, okay? Not in a hurry, right?" She tries to nod, but her eyes get glassy so she pauses.

"No-I-um-thanks." Leaving her there, I go to answer a few customers and come back a few minutes later with a glass of warm milk and a just-baked sugar cookie. She smiles slightly.

"Won't your mom get angry?" she asks, but she's eyeing the cookie like it's a cookie made of pure gold. I guess, living in the Seam, she's too poor to afford this stuff. I return her smile.

"She'll never know," I lie, handing over the snack and watching her gobble it up in seconds. "Eat it-I bet you can never get to this stuff." She finishes her milk and licks her fingers wistfully.

"No, we don't." I nod sympathetically.

"Anytime you want, just come on over, all right?" She nods, and although she doesn't say anything, she radiates gratification. Now, I'm feeling even more considerate. "Who do you have to take care of you? Isn't your mom a bit...I mean, are you all right? Katniss meant a lot to you, didn't she?" Prim nods sadly.

"Gale brings me herbs and meat," she says quietly. Oh, Gale. The boy who's squirrels my father loves. Prim looks up, more interested in me now that she's full. She gapes at my bruise.

"What happened to _you?" _I shrug indifferently.

"Mother hit me."

"She hit you?!"

"Yeah."

"And you ask _me _if I'm okay?" For a moment, we just grin stupidly at each other. I think I've found a friend at last.

That night, I sneak downstairs at about two a.m to turn on the TV-making sure it's on mute. I'm disappointed-there's nothing on. However, it does mention that tommorow, at this same time, the chariot parade would be on.

The next day Prim visits again. She stares at me in horror.

"Now what?" She asks, seeing the small gash in my unbruised cheek. I smile a little, which makes my cheek ache.

"Mother slapped me. Not very hard, but she was wearing a ring."

"Why?"

"Why she was wearing a ring?" I ask. I know perfectly well what she means, but I don't want to answer, so I stall.

"No, of course not-why did she slap you?"

"You know- '_Don't give random people free food, you little fool, _blah blah blah'." Prim registers this, then yelps.

"Because of me?"

"No, because of _me, _because _I _gave it to _you." _Prim ignores me.

"But how did she know?"

"That woman has an eagle's eye. Saw that a cookie was missing, counted the money I earned, asked Kent about what customers we had. My stupid brother, of course, told her about you."

"Oh, I'm so sorry..." tears fill her eyes again.

"Never mind," I reply briskly, quickly pulling a small cheese bun out of the counter. I toss it to her, and she grabs it before staring at it in amazement. She's practically salivating.

"Eat it," I say threateningly.

"But your mother-"

"Don't worry about that witch-eat it or I'll make you." She gratefully gobbles it up while I rummage the cupboards for our hot chocolate mix. It's a rare treasure around District Twelve, and we only have it for customers. I've never tasted it myself-mother made it clear that one sip would guarentee that we'd be whipped. Peeta had sometimes joked about taking a sip or two, but we had never dared. Now, I gingerly took out a small can, glanced around for Kent or my mother, then poured a small spoonful into a cup before filling it with milk and putting it on the stove.

Prim had seen, and her eyes were wide.

"Your mother," she began, but I shook my head. it wasn't just for Prim-I was feeling extremely rebellious today, with my hatred for mother.

"Don't worry." I say, as the aroma of chocolate fills the bakery. Prim's salivating again. "While it heats, come here-"

I lead her to the back of the bakery and open the back door. We live at the edge of the fence, so we can see the rickety fence a few yards away, with it's 'Danger!' sign. Closer, there's the trash can, and a couple of small pine trees.

"This is where your sister came," I find myself saying as I look around. "You and I were eight. Peeta and your sister were twelve."

"Yeah, I remember," Prim says, looking awed. "We were starving. Katniss left with some of my baby clothes, and came back with the bread that saved our lives. She said that the 'bakery boy' tossed her bread. She never went much into details." Tears filled Prim's eyes again, from the thought that Katniss never _would _get into details-in fact, would most likely never talk to Prim again.

I hug her, and hold her. She's my age-only a few months younger than me-but I want the feeling of protecting her, comforting her, having a little sister.

"Listen," I tell her fiercely. "Your sister's coming back, you hear me? She's coming back, I promise. No matter what. So don't cry. Don't cry, okay? She's coming back." Prim sobs into my shoulder, small, hunched and skinny, like a little child. "Listen-" my voice catches, and I squeeze my eyes shut. "listen-my mother-the day he was reaped? She said- 'District Twelve will have a winner yet. _She_'s a fighter, that one.' She said that. See? She knew. Katniss is going to come back." Now, I feel tears slipping down my cheeks, because it's just too much. "Katniss is coming back," I say, comforting Prim and feeling guilt stab my heart.

"But Penny," Prim sobs. "If Katniss comes back-Peeta won't come back." The cold guilt grasps my heart and, suddenly, it's me who's crying and Prim who's holding me.

"I know," I whisper through my tears. 'He's not coming back. Ever. I know."

**Hope you liked it. Please review, even if you didn't like it~!**


	2. Chapter 2-The Chariot Parade

-Flashback-

_11-year old Peeta and 7-year old Piper leave the school after their first day. Piper is wide-eyed, watching everyone in a mixture of fear and curiosity. She sees her brother looking at someone. _

"_Pip, see that girl over there?" Peeta points, and Piper squints in that direction. She sees a girl about Peeta's age, small and skinny, with dark hair in two braids and wearing a pretty plaid dress. _

"_Who is she?" Piper asked. She didn't notice anything particularly interesting about her. _

"_That's the girl who's mother Dad used to like," Peeta said in awe. _

"_Really?" Piper's wide eyes got wider. "But why did Daddy marry Mommy?"_

"_She went after a coal miner," Peeta replied simply. _

"_Daddy's better than __**any **__coal miner," Piper declared loyally. _

"_Yeah, but that miner could sing, and all the birds would go silent."_

"_Realllly?" Piper asked. _

"_Really. And when the teacher asked for someone to sing the valley song, she sang it, and all the birds outside were silent." Piper's eyes got huge._

"_You're fibbing to me." she said angrily. _

"_I'm not."_

"_Really?"_

"_Really." Piper went silent. _

"_Wow."_

_-A year later-_

_ An 8-year old Piper stood behind the counter, standing on her tiptoes to reach over the counter and hand a man a loaf of bread as big as her head. Piper is still skinny, small and wide-eyed. She looks around for her brother, who doesn't seem to be working, even though it's his shift. Peeta was at the window, looking into the rain. Piper finished wrapping the bread, put it down and padded over. _

"_Peeta?" She peered out the window and saw her mother, screaming. Then she saw another girl, crouching behind a pine tree. She was very skinny, Piper noticed. _

"_What's mother doing out in the rain?" _

"_Pip, remember that girl?"_

"_That girl? No." _

"_Remember when I told you about her father the coal miner?" Piper scowled, thinking. _

"_Um...yeah. The girl in the plaid dress? Yeah, I know her sister now."_

"_Yes. Her father died."_

"_The man who could sing and the birds would go silent?" _

"_Yes."_

"_Oh no," Piper said with emphasis. The concept of death was lost to her 8-year old mind. _

"_She's starving. Mother's yelling because she was rifling through our garbage."_

"_But..."_

_Suddenly, the door slammed open and their mother stomped in, muttering. She shook off the water and glared at her two children._

"_Well?" she shrieked. "Work!" Then she stomped to the counter to greet a customer. Piper stared after her. _

"_Pip, is the bread ready?" Peeta whispered when their mother had begun to work. Piper blinked in confusion, then went to check the oven. Peering into the hot flames, she poked at the rows of loaves of bread. The rich aroma of raisins, cinnamon, nuts and baking bread filled the air, and she couldn't help but wish that the customers would leave at least one loaf-of course, it would be stale by then, but it would still taste good. Wistfully, she prodded one. It was soft but slightly crisp-perfectly done. _

"_Is it good?" Peeta called. _

"_Yeah," Piper called back. _

"_Okay. Take two loaves." Piper's heart rose. Maybe Peeta was going to sneak them out and share them with her. Carefully, Piper picked out the two best ones and hugged them to her chest-they were so warm... "Now throw them into the fire."_

"_What?!"_

"_Trust me, Pip." Feeling extremely confused, Piper slowly took a loaf and dropped it into the fire, then watched it slowly begin to burn. Perhaps it was some strange, mysterious 12-year old knowledge. When she was twelve, she'd get it._

"_Okay, now Piper, take th-"_

_The bell jingled to signal the customer's leaving, then their mother ran over, screaming. _

"_Fool!" She shrieked. She pushed the startled Piper out of the way and stabbed the bread with the poker, then pulled it out of the fire. It hadn't been very long, and the loaves were only scorched on the edges. Setting the bread carefully on the counter, her mother continued screaming. "You fool, did I teach you nothing? If the bread falls into the fire, don't stand like a rock and watch it burn, pull it out!" Piper stood, confused. Was this part of the plan that Peeta's amazing 12-year old mind had planned?_

"_But-but-" Whack. Her mother hit her across the face, and Piper stumbled, pain blossoming in one cheek and her forehead. Her mother screamed at her many times before, but it was the first, though not the last, time she had ever hit her._

"_Piper!" Peeta ran over. He grabbed her as she fell, then looked up at his outraged mother. "It was my fault-I distracted her-I asked her something and she looked up and dropped th-" Crack. Now it was Peeta who stumbled, a red mark on his cheekbone. Recovering quickly, he carefully dropped Piper into a chair before staggering to the bread, grabbing it and rushing outside. His mother went after him._

"_Feed it to the pigs, why don't you? No one will buy burned bread!" Furious, she slammed the door shut. _

_Dizzy, Piper sat up and looked out the window just in time to see her brother toss the girl the burned bread._

_-Later-_

"_Piper?" Piper woke to her brother's face. He had a red mark on his cheek, and suddenly she remembered that her mother had hit her. She touched her own cheek and felt an identical mark._

"_Piper, I'm so sorry. I should have burned the bread myself, but I wanted to make sure that Katniss didn't leave, so I had you do it. Are you okay?" _

"_Yeah." Katniss...so that was her name. _

I wake up from my dream, and stare up at the cracked ceiling. I hate waking up to it. It reminds me of how cracked my whole life is.

It's 2 am. I get out of bed, and grope around in the darkness until I find the door. Silently, I tip toe out of my room, down the hall and down the stairs, where I turn on the TV.

"_A ND HOW FOR DISTRICT TE-"_ Whoa. Too loud. I hastily turn it down, glance around in case my mother heard, then keep listening. "-_n! The tributes of District Ten, in cow-herder costumes!"_

"_Quite fitting, Caesar, what with the livestock district."_

"_Indeed, Claudius, but not particularly original!" _I peer at the screen. Ash and Fawn are wearing helmets with cow horns, and they bear rope lassos. They're going to have trouble getting sponsors in that, though Ash is fairly large and might have a chance. I feel worried-will Peeta be dressed in a costume as silly as that? What if they dressed him in another one of those ugly coal miner outfits-or worse, if they didn't dress him at all, but stark naked and rubbed with coal dust? I frown.

"_And now, District Eleven!" _The crowds cheer wildly, and I don't understand for a moment-the little girl and Thresh both look hideous in overalls, holding pitch forks. "_The male tribute is very large, we can expect a lot of sponsors for him!""""''_ I realize that it's Thresh's monstrous size. He's going to be very, very popular. I'm not so sure about the little girl-what was her name, Sue? Lou? Either one.

"_District Twelve!" _Oh, god. I can't bear to look. It's excusable, since I might see my brother-_naked. _

"_District Twelve-now, look at that!" _The crowd is going wild-even more than for Thresh. Amazed, I look at the screen.

And blink.

Blink again.

I have to clamp a hand over my own mouth to keep from screaming-_My brother is on fire. _

What was his stylist thinking of? I let out a low moan-he was going to die. Even before the games. Oh, god, no-

But he wasn't dead yet, so...

I look at the screen.

My brother and Katniss are holding hands, smiling and waving at the crowd. Peeta looks great, but Katniss even more. She looks like some sort of unearthly fire goddess, dressed in black, with flames billowing after her. I was right-the name Katniss rings through the crowd more than Peeta's. I'm miserable. Katniss is all right-I'm happy for Prim. But it's Peeta who I want to win, and he doesn't seem to stand a chance with Katniss.

"_Quite the remarkable costume, Caesar-and totally unheard of! How do they not burn, Caesar?"_

"_Well, Claudius, I believe it is the use of a new chemical invented here in our Capitol-a type of artificial fire, if you would believe it!"_

"_Amazing!" _Aha. So Peeta's stylist isn't quite all that crazy, after all. I watch Peeta and Katniss ride their way down to the square, then the TV cuts off to Claudius and Caesar's smiling faces. _That's in for tonight, ladies and gentlemen! Interviews will be playing repeatedly at the following times tommorow-1 p.m, 3 p.m, 6 p.m and 2 a.m! May the odds be ever in your favor! _

The TV cuts off.


	3. Chapter 3-The scores

It's been two days since the chariot parade, and tonight the private training scores will be on. For these two days, Prim has come to the bakery, after lunch. I'd get her some sort of pastry, whip up a cup of hot chocolate and we'd talk as I worked.

The bell jingles to signal her arrival and I look up from the cookies I'm cutting to smile at her.

"Hey."

"Hello." Prim comes to sit next to me, and watches as I viciously stab the cutter into the dough. When I'm done, I put the tray aside and make to get her the can of cocoa when I notice that she looks nervous.

"What's wrong?"

"It's my mother," she blurts out, looking miserable. "she's going away again." I blink. Huh?

"Going away? Going where?"

"No, I mean, she's retreating back into herself. She's all distant. Won't eat." I frown.

"Has she done this before?"

"Yes."

"Well, what did you do then?" I realize the answer and regret my question immediately as Prim's lip begins to tremble. Of course, Katniss would have... "Forget it," I say hastily. Stirring the powder into the milk, I take a moment to breathe in the scent. I've given Prim quite a bit, but I've yet to taste it myself. I snap out of my enchantment and quickly look around.

"Kent!" I yell.

"Yeah?" he calls from the front of the bakery.

"Watch the customers. I'm going upstairs."

"Why?!" I've already taken Prim's hand, and we're both tramping up the stairs.

"What are we doing?" Prim asks, looking around our small TV room in interest. I click the TV on, then glance at the clock.

"Perfect," I mutter. "We're watching the tribute scores. Just listen up for footsteps."

"But I don't want to," Prim squeaks in terror. "Katniss-"

"Katniss will do fine," I reply, a little meanly. Of course she would. She probably already has dozens of sponsors lining up for her-it's Peeta I'm worried about, and I'm irritated that Prim is too concerned about Katniss to care about Peeta. Of course, there isn't much choice.

The TV flickers on to the scores. We're early, so we settle down with one ear open for footsteps.

The Careers got scores 8 at the worst and 10 at the most-good scores, nothing unusual. For District Three, the girl got 5 and the boy, 4. District five, six and seven are average with scores ranging from 6-8. District Eight's scores are sickeningly low-the girl got 3, and the boy got 4. District Nine-I lean in, eager to see that girl, Rowan. Her photo appears, and I study it. I haven't gotten a good look at her face before. She's beautiful in a way unlike the Capitol, with a sharp, angular face and dark brown hair and eyes. Her skin is a deep hazelnut with tints of raspberry in her cheeks-I can't help but think of food. Then her score appears-8. Wow! For a tribute of Nine to get such a score...I smile to myself, then quickly stop. I'm rooting for Peeta and Katniss-not her.

Next comes District Ten-both scrap up sevens. District Eleven-the large male, Thresh, got an unsurprising 10, and the little girl got a 7, impressive for her size and district. Now, Twelve.

I close my eyes. Prim squeals, and I open them seconds before my brother's big, bright 8 disappears.

"An Eight! Peeta got an eight!" I say, happily. Maybe he has a chance. Maybe a generous sponsor...Prim smiles a bit, but her attention is on the screen. I turn, and see Katniss's score. A 11.

Somehow, I couldn't bear to look at Prim. I smiled and listened to her chatter happily, but didn't look at her. I didn't want to see her happy.

Katniss got an eleven...how? Not even a single Career got above ten. She must have some secret skill. I've underestimated her, and Peeta has too, probably. She's much more powerful than I had expected, and this is only bad news for my brother. Suddenly, I feel annoyed by Prim's joy.

"Come on, the hot chocolate will be ready." I walk off without waiting for her, though I hear her footsteps behind me. I felt irritated, at everything. Why did Katniss get an 11, and my brother only a 8? Why was he reaped, anyway? Why's my mom so mean? Why does Prim get hot chocolate, but not me?

I reach the foot of the stairs, and look forward-all of my irritation had been swept away. I stared, cold with surprise and fear.

In front of me, my mother was trembling with rage. And in her hand was the saucepan filled with hot chocolate.

"What," she said, her voice deadly, "is the meaning of this?" Frantic, I look around-there's Kent, trying to hide behind the ovens, looking guilty.

_You lying little cowardly tattletale, _I scream at him through my eyes. He cringes, no longer looking like a twenty-year old but like a guilty child.

"I said, what is the meaning of this?" My mom repeats, louder. As if I couldn't see it, she raises the small pot to my face. Heat radiates off it, and the scent wafts to my nostrils.

"I'm sorry, Ms-I mean, Mrs. Mellark," Prim pips up timidly from behind me. _You, you stay out of thi- _"she was giving it to me," Prim continues. "I swear, she didn't take one sip." Oh, Prim. My mom's glare is now fixed on her.

"Who are you? The bakery is there. You don't go upstairs. Have you payed for the hot chocolate?" I open my mouth to spin up a lie, but Prim pips up again. I want to strangle her as she says, forever honest:

"No, not yet." Now, my mother whirls on to me.

"You! You know better than to let customers have food before paying!"

"She's not just a customer, she's my friend!" I yell back. Crack. My mother's hand whips across my cheek, making the bruise throb, even though it's only a light hit. I double over, and Prim yelps.

"Do you go around giving random customers food and calling them your friends?" My mother screams.

"Look, Ma-" Kent finally comes from behind the ovens, but my mother turns and hits his head, making him grunt and fall back. I blink the stars away and stare-my mother almost never hits Kent, the big mama's boy. She stares for a moment, blinking as if she, too, doesn't understand what she just did.

"You witch," I whisper, slowly getting up. The words leave my mouth before I can pull them back. My mother turns to stare at me.

"What did you say?"

"You witch. You're no mother-" This time, it hurts much, much more-so much more that at first I don't feel the pain. The saucepan goes down on my head, and I hear a sickening crack before I fall to the floor.

At first, I feel nothing, and then I feel the huge burst of jagged, swelling pain running through my head and the searing hot chocolate sloshing over my body. I let out a small gasp, clutching my head. Prim shrieks. I stare up at my mother through a blur of red, at her stony face.

"Make her pay. Go back to work," she snaps shortly at me before practically tossing the saucepan onto the floor and marching upstairs. Immediately, Prim bursts into tears, running over. I weakly motion her away.

"No," I say, rage trembling through my voice. "Stay back." Prim's eyes are welling with tears.

"She-but-she-"

"Stay. Back." I don't even know why I'm angry at her-Prim, of all people. But I am.

"Piper-"

"Leave! Now!" I scream, sounding so much like my mother that I flinch at my own voice. Prim flinches. Kent flinches, too. Shakily, still clutching my head with one hand, I stumble to the cup boards and pull out the can of cocoa mix. The small movement makes me see stars. "Go back to your loving little mother," I say, in a lower tone. "Go back and have a nice, cozy time over hot chocolate, celebrating your sister's high score while Peeta gets killed." Prim slowly understands, that it isn't about my mother, but about Peeta.

"Piper," she says. "Piper, I'm sorry, I didn't notice-"

"GO!" I hurl the can at her, and she ducks, so that the can hits the wall and falls to the floor, half opened, with the precious powder spilling out. Prim kneels to pick it up then runs out the door.

The bells' rusty jingle never sounded so final.

"Piper," Kent says quietly. "That wasn't very nice."

"You, too!" I shout. "Like you care about Peeta. You didn't even watch his chariot race, or see his score, did you?" Kent's eyes widen.

"Of course no-wait, you did? How?"

"He got an eight!" I scream. "He got an eight, and stupid Katniss got a twelve!" Something in Kent's expression darkens, and he quickly goes upstairs. I'm left all alone in the empty bakery.


	4. Chapter 4-Interviews

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That night, I lay awake until 2 am, staring up at the ceiling, with each crack illuminated by the moonlight. When 2 am finally came, I crept downstairs and turned on the TV, making sure that the volume was low.

It was the female tribute from 7, dressed in a strapless black dress, very low cut and revealing. I winced-it didn't go well with her flat looks-her stylist was obviously amateur. I zoned out, napping in the glare of the artificial light as my head throbbed. I winced again, remembering my harsh words to Prim and Kent. Kent hadn't talked to me for the rest of the day. I wondered if Prim was sleeping, or if she was awake like me.

When I blink back to reality, it's already the male tribute from Nine, dressed in a ivory suit that meets the chocolate of his skin. I watch impatiently until Rowan comes on.

"_The female tribute of District Nine-Rowan Dayburne!" _Casesar, in midnight blue, announces loudly, and the brightly adorned Capitol crowd cheers as Rowan steps out. I smile, awed. She's dressed in a simple, silky ivory dress, wrapped around her torso. I can see that her and the male tribute are using similar ideas, but she looks beautiful. There are golden loops around her ears, arms and ankles, and in her loose hair. She looks like an Egyptian princess, at least the ones from textbooks. "_What a gorgeous young lady! Rowan-come, sit down." _Shyly, she walks over to where Caesar stands and sits down next to him. She folds her hands (clear nail polish) and looks down at them through long eyelashes (dusted with some sort of sparkling white stuff), never once glancing at Caesar or the crowd. "_Now, Rowan, are we shy? Now, don't be shy! Let's see that pretty face!" _Slowly, Rowan raises her head. Her stylist obviously had not used makeup. A good choice, I think. "_Good! We have little time; let's get going! Now, we all saw you at the reaping, hmm? What a touching scene we had there! That was your little sister, yes?" _

"_Yes, Poppy. I have 9 other siblings; Pepper, Saffron, Sage, Rosemary, Jasmine, Ivy, and the triplets, Rena, Resa and Rina." _I smile-she seems quite eager to talk when it's about her siblings.

"_How nice! You must love them very much." _

"_Yes, I do."_Her voice breaks. "_I want to win, and go back to them." _

"_Well, of course you will,"_ Caesar agrees heartily._ "So, what have you gotten planned? Quite a nice score you got, for such an undeveloped district, hmm?" _

"_I can't tell you yet," _Rowan says with a small smile. _"I guess you'll see later." _The bell rings, and Rowan gets up to leave. Caesar yells a few things and up comes the tribute for District Ten.

I zone out again, thinking of Rowan. I couldn't stop thinking about her, worrying about her. She had a chance of winning...she was fifteen...

No no no. I shake the thought out my head. I should be hoping that she'd lose, and Peeta would come back...

"_Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire!" _Caesar roars, and the crowd screams in anticipation. Obviously, the fire thing in the chariots has excited them.

Katniss appears.

Oh.

My.

God.

I stare at her dress- it's completely made of jewels, shiny, clinking ones in flaming colors of red and yellow and orange.

Katniss is on fire. Again.

"_Look at that, ladies and gentlemen!" _Caesar yells, and the crowd shrieks with approval as she walks down the stage to meet Caesar. She's nervous-her hands are clenched and even through the blurry screen I can see the glistening sweat on them. She sits, hands folded in her lap just like Rowan. "_Now, Katniss, the Capitol must be quite a change from District Twelve! What's impressed you most since you arrived here?" _Katniss's eyes widen, and she opens her mouth, then shuts it. I can see her eyes dart to the crowd, then back to her lap. Poor Katniss.

"_Tha lamb stew," _she mumbles, and Caesar and the audience laughs. A smile tugs at my lips. Good one.

"_The one with dried plums? I eat it by the bucketful," _Caesar laughs. He puts his hand on his stomach and puts on a look of horror. "_It doesn't show, does it?" _The audience yells a no and applaud. It's going well for Katniss. "_Now, Katniss, when you came out in the opening ceremonies, my heart actually stopped. What did you think of that costume?" _This time, she has no problem.

"_You mean after I got over my fear of being burned alive?" _This time, I let the smile come. The audience laughs, too.

"_Yes. Start then." _

"_I thought Cinna was brilliant and it was the most gorgeous costume I'd ever seen and I couldn't believe I was wearing it. I can't believe I'm wearing this, either. I mean, look at it!" _Katniss spreads the skirt out and stands. The jewels catch the light and glint, making the crowd ooh and ah. Katniss begins to twirl.

It's beautiful-at first I think that the skirt really is on fire. The jewels spin and crackle like a fire, blazing up, swallowing her up.

"_Don't stop!" _Caesar calls.

"_I have to, I'm dizzy!" _Katniss pauses, giggling. _Giggling? _Caesar says something, and then the view rotates to Haymitch's large face. I blink, annoyed. Finally, they rotate back. By now, they're talking about her training score.

"-_not supposed to talk about it, right?" _Katniss asks the balcony. A voice replies, but the TV errupts into a burst of static and the screen goes blurry for a moment. FInally, the voices come back- "_-I swore I would." _What? Swore what?

"_I bet you did," _Caesar says, and then the buzzer goes off. Caesar says something, but I don't listen. I'm too busy watching Peeta as he comes up.

My brother is dressed considerably less impressive than Katniss, only a red suit and pants over a dark shirt. Unhappy, I watch him come up to the stage. There's something in his eyes that I don't understand, but I leave it for now.

Peeta and Caesar talk in witty back and forth's that the static-filled TV cannot catch. At one part, they smell each other.

Peeta and Caesar. Best friends.

I only perk up when Caesar mentions me.

"_Katniss stole all the attention of the reaping, eh? But that girl-who was she? Quite a touching scene." _Peeta smiles slightly.

"_That was my younger sister, Piper," _he says.

"_Oh? There seems to be a lot of family connections-Katniss and Primrose, you and Piper. What's she like?" _

"_Oh, quite annoying now and then," _Peeta says slyly, and from the way he's staring at the cameras, I can tell that he knows I'm watching. Warmth spreads through my body. "_But I love her." _

"_Yes, we all have the annoying-sibling experience when we are children, right?" _A few members of the audience laughs and yells yes. "_So, leaving the matter of siblings, any girls that like you? Anyone that's special?" _He waggles his eyebrows, and the audience is silent in anticipation.

Peeta shakes his head. He doesn't seem to want to mention Katniss. "_Handsome lad like you. There must be some special girl! Come on, what's her name?" _Caesar asks. Peeta sighs, and I lean forward. Say her name...

"_Well, there is this one girl. I've had a crush on her as long as I can remember, but I'm pretty sure she didn't even know I was alive until the reaping." _Caesar shakes his head as if in despair, and the audience sighs. I smile. Peeta is admitting his crush to the world. I can't help but feel happy that until now, I was the only one who knew.

"_She has another fellow?" _Urgh. Gale.

"_I don't think so, but a lot of boys like her." _A lot? Wasn't it only Gale?

"_So here's what you do! You win, you go home. Then she'll have to recognize you, eh?" _Caesar. Stupid, unknowing Caesar. Peeta sucks in a breath.

"_Winning won't help, in my case." _I wait, eager.

"_Why not?" _Peeta's face goes red, and his eyes dart. He does that when he's nervous.

"_Because she came here with me."_

The reaction is amazing. Whispers in the crowd surge to yells, and Caesar's eyes widen. The cameras swivel to Katniss's face, and I'm watching her blush for so long that I don't catch Peeta's last words as he leaves the stage.

The star-crossed lovers of District Twelve, I think to myself as I sit staring at the blank screen. That's got to help him. A romantic sponsor or two...right?

I'm tired-so tired. Rubbing my eyes, I walk down the hall to my room.

The bells jingle, and my head snaps up-but it's only Gale. Not Prim. Of course, she's still upset. I can't help but scowl as he walks in-my brother's rival. But he looks horrible-bloodshot eyes with dark shadows, and he's pale.

"Someone looks horrible," I remark as he comes, and his lips twitch up.

"You don't look so pretty either. What happened to your head? And for that matter, both cheeks?"

"Mother," I reply and he falls silent, placing two squirrels on the counter. I check myself in the reflective counter. There's a small bump on my forehead, over a swelling bruise. My cheek is healing-the bruise is now more of a yellow-green, and the cut on my other cheek's almost gone. Satisfied, I take the squirrels and hand over the usual loaf of bread. Our hands-my flour-dusted one and his calloused-meet over the bread, and I grimly glance at his face. I have to acknowledge it-him, me, Prim, we all have something in common.

"Thanks," he says quietly, and exits. I pause, then slowly go back to kneading dough.

I have nothing to do today. There's no Prim to keep me company, no mother to scream at me. She's upstairs. There's no Peeta to tell jokes, and my brothers are at school. The customers are scarce, and everything's done.

I don't dare to go upstairs and watch TV. My mother might see me. Regretting my words to Prim, I sit limply in a chair and watch the cracks in the ceiling.

Why is everything in this house cracked?

Suddenly, abruptly, the bell jingles. I leap to my feet, flinching when I see that it's a Peacekeeper. Not the gentle, easygoing ones-Cray and Darius and a few others-I don't know this one, but I don't like his face.

He lays down a few coins. "A cinnamon bun," he barks. As if I was a soldier. Obediently, I hand over the bun then scoop up the coins to count them.

"You're missing one," I say coolly. For a moment, he looks like he wants to hit me. Then he stiffly drops another coin and marches out with the bun.

Geez, crazy much?

I grumpily dump the money into the register before going back to my seat.

What was I going to do without Peeta?

**Boring chapter, sorry! A lot of you are following, thank you so much! But, no one reviews anymore...:( Please review! 5 reviews mean new chapter, from now on! **


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